Give Me Love: A Sterek Story
by Manda.love.panda
Summary: When you bring love to so many people ... when do you get your own? Stiles comes to Beacon Hills with out memory. John Stilinski takes him in and gives him a home. The little arrow maker soon learns that you cant always be happy by only making others happy. Sometimes you need to do something for yourself. Sterek complete (possibly open)
1. Chapter 1

**Hello! This is my first Sterek short to post. I watched the music video , Give Me Love by Ed Sheeran. I thought I had to make a fic for it. I'm not sure if I want to continue with this or not. I might just leave it as a one shot, but enjoy! Disclaimer: I don't own the song the characters or setting. **

Stiles sat in his loft high in the clock tower of Beacon Hills. He claimed the space as his own. His simple four poster bed and table that he turned into his work bench. He didn't have much to his name… he only had the nickname Stiles that he gave himself. He liked it, it was pretty to him.

Pretty like the little mannequins that stood on his table. These were his things, he liked them.

The night was falling and Stiles sat on his bed, his feet dangling off the edge of the bed. His shirt was too big and it slid off his thin shoulder. Stiles watched the floor as it slipped revealing the thing strap of his undershirt. There were wood shavings dusting the floor around his table. Shavings from the arrow shafts that he carved every night compulsively… he couldn't remember when he learned. He'd just always known how to make them.

Stiles flexed his toes in his socks… socks were funny things. The Sherriff of the town had given him these things, the socks. John Stilinski had found Stiles wandering the streets in the cold night, barefoot and only wearing a simple white shift that was no cover against the weather and leather pieces of archery wear on his hand, and other arm. Stiles couldn't feel the cold. He just marveled at the lights of the buildings and the jumped from the metal things that flew past him on the streets, and if anyone tried to take his archery gear he screeched.

What were these things? Cars. Stiles knew that now. He learned quickly with John teaching him. They put Stiles age at near nineteen. They couldn't put him in foster care, so John tried to set him up in his spare since he was the Sherriff and he'd been the one to found the strange quiet boy who didn't seem to know much about the world at all.

After the first night and John had found Stiles balancing across his two story roof he realized that he couldn't keep Stiles with him there. Stiles once John had got it out of him said he just wanted to be up high. The clock towers little loft was the highest place in Beacon Hills. John set him up there.

That's how Stiles ended up now sitting on his bed staring at the little mannequins that he had positioned to be hugging one another. People touched and hugged and loved all the time, but there were people out there that should be together and just didn't notice it yet. Stiles saw it.

John knocked and came in through the door to one room flat that only had a bathroom off of it. He was holding a bag that Stiles could already smell. Curly fries. Stiles hurried to John with a bright expression as he was given the curly fries. Curly fries where Stiles absolute favorite.

"Here, I brought you more water bottles too." John smiled setting the large package of water bottles on the floor. Stiles made a happy little noise and he bounced down on his bed drawing his feet up under him. He hummed a little soft song as he pulled opened the bag and plucked one free.

The Sherriff walked slowly into the room taking it in. His finger ran over the intricate arrows that Stiles had made. For not knowing anything six months ago the boy was quite the crafts man. Each one looked like it took a hell of a lot of effort and time.

Stiles made an arrow for every couple he saw who should be, but were not. In his wanderings he'd seen dozens.

Stiles looked up from his curly fry as John ran his finger over one certain arrow. The arrow Stiles first made. It was John's arrow, and Stiles smiled. He didn't know what he was supposed to do with it, the arrow he made for John, but he knew it wasn't meant to just be handed to him.

"You're really good at this kid. What are you going to do with them?" John asked, but he never got an answer. His phone rang and he got called in for work early, again. John smiled and ruffled Stiles hair. "You be good. I'll come and see you when I get off. I'm working on getting you a little fridge so you aren't living off of curly fries. See you Stiles." He rushed and Stiles watched him leave feeling … something a little hollow in his chest.

XXX

He had her right beside him. She was leaning against the wall with him, their fingers so close to touching. Together they waited outside of a club for their other friend. He told her that she could go in where it was warmer, but she said she was fine.

Their hearts were racing for each other, but neither would make that final move into that scary territory that could also be so beautiful if only they would try. They'd been friends first, and neither wanted to make a mistake and lose everything with one another… so they were almost willing to miss out on the perfection of each other's lips, and the sensation of skin on skin.

Stiles could see them from his all. Watching the couple with his head cocked to the side. _Touch. Lean in, tell him you like him. Kiss him. _Stiles pleaded with them. They should be together; he could feel it so bad it was like pin pricks at his back. They need a push. Just one push and they would be together.

He needed to go home. There was another arrow that he had to make. Another couple that was supposed to be together was kept apart.

XXX

This was the fastest arrow that he had made. It took just the rest of the night. Others took days, weeks even to finish, but Stiles was driven on by the prickling pain in his back. It was finished and by then the pain in his back only got worse.

Stiles sat on his bed lips set in a small frown as he tried to reach around his shoulders, his back, to get at what was hurting him. His fingers dragged over the skin under his tank top, to only thing he was wearing at the moment, his body over heating with the pain. Stiles kept searching, fingers dragging as he jerked this way and that trying to get a look.

But then his fingers ran over something raised. It scratched at the pad of his finger and Stiles gasped. He jerked to try and see, but his neck didn't bend that way. His fingers pulled at it, trying to grasp it. It was so short that he couldn't catch hold until finally he caught it between his nails. Slowly he pulled and then he felt it sliding from his skin in a stomach rolling sensation. Stiles felt dizzy as he held the foreign object to his face, his vision dancing too much to really focus. He swayed and the bloody white feather came into view of his leather clad hand. Eyebrows drew together and eyes swam until it went dark and Stiles fell back on his mattress. The feather fluttered from his unconscious hand to the floor.

XXX

Wings were marvelous things. Soft and light, but stronger than anything Stiles had ever felt. They flexed the small things on his back. He didn't know how they would ever carry him to fly. Perhaps they would grow? He hoped that they would. He would love to fly. He loved high places.

When he'd woken ten minutes ago he felt different. His wings ruffling as he woke, and in his hand was a black bow that he'd never seen before but felt like a part of him. Stiles slid from his bed stretching his wings and smiling. It felt good, exhilarating. After stretching them and feeling them he picked up the newest arrow that he had made and he ran.

They would still be there, he knew that they would. The couple from the club would be walking out and all he had to do was make it to his ally. His wings propelled him faster than just his feet could. It took no time at all until he was standing in the darkness of the ally, bow and arrow in hand waiting.

He would give them the love they should have.

Stiles strung the arrow and he pulled. This was what he was supposed to do. A trio came from the club laughing and holding on to one another.

He inhaled and shut his eyes for just a brief moment. Slowly he pulled back and then let the arrow fly. It spun through the air, and landed in the back of the man. He jerked forward and the arrow burst away in a cloud of read. Stiles watched as he stopped them all, pulling the woman to him. A smile played on Stiles lips. This was what he'd wanted for them, and then he kissed her, and Stiles ran home. He had other arrows to deliver.

XXX

Stiles felt drunk with each arrow that he let free. The more love he brought to people the more light headed and dizzied he felt. Yet with each couple that found love there was something a lone and fragile in him that screamed _Give _Me_ love! _The drive to deliver all of his arrows kept him running, kept him going through all of Beacon Hills.

By the time the sun began to rise he only had a handful of arrows and his heart was aching, but his body swayed delighted. There was so much conflict. The need to bring love to others, and the desire for love for himself tore him.

Johns visit had been missed. Stiles had been gone the whole night that he'd missed it. A note was on his bed. John had taught him how to read, and Stiles had caught on to the words easily. The speaking was what came harder.

_I'm sorry I missed you Stiles. We'll have a whole day together soon. We'll do whatever you want, even have curly fries. –John._

The name reminded him that he was still holding John's arrow. It was in his hands with the others that he had not shot yet. When the sun set he would go out again, he would finish these, and give Johns his and he and could be with the pretty nurse that had checked Stiles over when he first woke up in Beacon Hills.

They let John's wife death keep them apart because Melissa had been her bestfriend. They belonged together, and when Stiles was done everyone would have love.

_What about you? _A voice murmured in the back of his mind. Stiles slipped out of his boots and slid into bed falling to sleep with the coldness in his chest. He'd be happy when everyone else had love, that's what he told himself as he fell asleep. As long as they were happy, he would be happy, right?

XXX

The little faceless mannequins were his playthings. Lying in bed Stiles turned them over in his hands, moving them to hug, to kiss. He imagined that one of the faceless things was him, but the other mannequin just stayed a faceless thing. Who would love him?

Stiles tossed the dolls down and got into his boots. There were arrows still. Stiles grabbed them and he headed to the newest club. They would be there, all but John. Stiles could find John the very next morning with Melissa.

Clubs were loud and brimming with energy, sexual, ecstatic, and desperate. It permeated the air and made Stiles sway as he made his way through writing bodies. The music was moving and Stiles danced here and there as slammed arrow after arrow home into the backs of men and women alike.

If anyone though it was strange that a winged boy with arrows was dancing buzzed and drawlingly, they didn't say. Some watched him with curious eyes, and others danced with him. Their hands on his waist, his bare arm… every touch felt wrong as his eyelashes fluttered and he ran.

They weren't the one for him. They wouldn't give him love.

There was still one arrow left. The hollow in him wasn't filled and he'd already brought so many people love. Would it go away once he was done with Johns? He had to find out. Stiles wanted to smile and feel like those people did when they fell into each other's arms. Melissa was at the hospital, she was there now, and Stiles knew Johns number…

XXX

"Melissa!" John shouted when he reached the hospital after a call from Stiles. He said that he fell. _Fell, John. Melissa has me. _Frantically he made his way to the hospital, because with that kid it sure as hell was possible for him to fall with his obsession with being in high up place.

Melissa spun at her name to see John coming for her quickly. Her heart seized. Something looked wrong. He looked worried. Carefully she stepped out from behind the nurse's station to meet him.

"Where is he? Is he alright?" John asked quickly. Melissa didn't know what John was talking about. She told him as much and John looked confused.

"But, Stiles called from here, he said he fell, he said you had him." John's brow furrowed and he wiped a hand over his mouth. "Stiles hasn't been here all night. I haven't seen him." Melissa assured and John sighed.

He didn't know what was going on. Neither of them saw Stiles standing down the hall way drawing the bow taunt. He felt bad for tricking John that way, but this would make up for it. He let go of the arrow and it hit its mark. Stiles waited and waited for the cold feeling to go away. Though with each passing second and the hug that Melissa and John shared it only got hollower.

Stiles wanted that. What everyone was having. He didn't think he could, but he knew a way to try. It had worked for everyone else.

XXX

The newest arrow was quickly made with upset fingers. Gently Stiles rocked back and forth in his chair as he carved and shaved and sharpened _his _arrow. It was shorter than the others that he had made. This one wasn't going to fly from a bow.

Gently Stiles turned it over in his fingers… it was so light. Tears fell from Stiles eyes as he plucked two feathers from his new wings for the fletching's of his arrow. They were bloodstained as he threaded them to his arrow.

_Give me love like never before because lately I've been craving more… You know I'll fight my corner, and that tonight I'll call ya when my blood…_

Stiles paced his floor running the arrow over his chest, his neck, just along his jaw. There was fear in his movements, but there was anticipation. With a determined set to his jaw he sat on the bed and he plunged the arrow in.

XXX

John and Melissa just sort of… fell together. John didn't really know what happened, but he suspected Stiles had something to do with it. He wasn't angry either. This had been hovering between the two of them for a long time, and now… well there were plans for dinner.

Though as John kissed Melissa remembered that Stiles had said that he fell and he was a little worried still. He wasn't completely sure that Stiles made this happen between him and Melissa, and the boy no matter how good at reading and writing was a little slower with talking. He could really be hurt and just messed up what he had hurriedly spoken into the phone before hanging up.

Stiles didn't have a phone of his own. John hadn't gotten around to getting him that yet. The fridge seemed more important anyways. So he stepped away from Melissa and called his newest officer. He was working directly under Sherriff Stilinski to get experience, they were shift partners a good lot of the time.

"Hale. I need you to do me a favor and go and check on… On my son, Stiles. He lives in the clock tower, there's a spare key above the door, but he hardly locks it." John said into the phone. Derek Hale nodded before he realized that he had to use his words.

"Yeah, I got it." Derek said before hanging up. He didn't know that John had a son. He had heard that he'd taken in some kid that showed up in town before Derek got a job at the station. Derek didn't know much about that either. He started the police issue vehicle and made off in the general direction of the clock tower.

It was quiet as Derek walked up the stairs to the very top where the loft was. He'd never actually had any reason to go to the clock tower and he wondered what kind of person the Sherriff's son had to be to want to live in it.

"Hello? Stiles Stilinski? It's Derek Hale from the station. Your father sent me. I'm coming in." Derek announced before turning the handle. The door opened slowly to a lowly lit room with a fan going in the corner. It was very sparse, and there were wood shavings on the ground around what looked to be a work bench.

His eyes were drawn to the bed where someone, Stiles, Derek assumed, was laying. It was another three steps into the room that he noticed the wings. _Probably some costume thing._ Then another step and he saw the blood on the mattress, and the arrow laying across the bed. Derek realized the arrow was sticking from the boys throat.

Shit.

Derek hurried forward and was about to bring his fingers to the boys pulse to see if he was alive to see if he could save him before it was too late, but then he twitched. The wings twitched.

Stiles wings stretched out and then the arrow disappeared in a cloud of red smoke like it had so any times before. It had taken longer, but it worked and the blood that had stained the mattress was gone.

Derek didn't flinch, he moved closer. He had to see if the boy was alright. The boy with the wings. The boy that had shot himself with an arrow that could disappear.

Stiles opened his eyes slowly, blinking to clear the haze of his vision and soon he could see Derek watching him worriedly.

Eyes were watching him and Stiles was looking back. The hollow feeling in his chest was completely gone.


	2. Chapter 2

Derek had a moment of falling when he looked into those eyes, a hardened amber color that stole his breath. He was stunning, unlike anything that he had ever seen before. From his eyes, and that childlike look in them, to his _wings_ Stiles was completely different. Derek stood awed for a moment until Stiles struggled to try and sit up.

"No, no, stay down." Derek warned pressing gently on Stiles shoulder to get him to lie still as he sat on the edge besides him. Stiles looked up at him through thick lashes and smile. The boy had been bleeding, an arrow through his neck and now he was smiling. "What were you thinking? What even was that arrow?" Derek questioned running his finger over the wound… or where there should have been a wound.

Stiles smiled further reaching up to brush his fingers against Derek's stubble. "It's love." He said plainly. That's what his arrows were, love that belonged to those people that they hadn't yet found themselves. The arrow could have killed Stiles, but he took that chance for this. For the policeman before him.

"What do you mean love? You could have died." Derek said gently still marveling at the fact that the arrow was gone, the wound nonexistent.

"I didn't die, I have you." The boy smiled brushing his fingers again over Dereks stubble. It was like he never felt something like that before, and he looked like he really like it. Derek didn't have the heart to tell him to stop. Nothing the boy said made sense really. The arrows are love, he was alive because Derek was.

Those wings didn't make sense either. People weren't born with wings, and these were very clearly attached. Derek smoothed his fingers over them and felt the warmth of life through them. Completely real, and functional, and they belonged to a boy, his partners son.

"You like?" Stiles asked inching closer to Derek with a little body wiggle. Stiles didn't want to sit up, he'd already been told not to. Derek's fingers were brushing over the soft downy of his wings, and Stiles liked it very much.

"Yeah, they're soft. Where did they come from, were you born with them?" Stiles could only shrug. He didn't remember being born, he didn't remember anything before being on the street and John picking him up. The wings had just grown too.

"I grew them." He smiled and Derek laughed a laugh that said he could clearly see that Stiles had grown them. Stiles loved the sound. It was prettier than anything he'd ever heard, even his own name, and Stiles liked the sound of his name. Derek sighed.

"I'm going to call your dad okay? He was worried and had me check on you." Ah, John. Happy John with curly fries. Stiles was very happy that he cared so much, now he had Derek because of it.

"What's your name?" He asked, cocking his head to the side as Derek lifted his phone to his ear.

"Huh? Oh, Derek. Derek Hale. It's nice to really meet you Stiles- John," Derek interrupted himself as John picked up the phone asking an array of questions. All of the questions were about Stiles, and if he was alright, if he was hungry or not. Derek didn't have the heart to tell him that he found his son lying on the bed with an arrow in his neck. Besides the boy was fine now it seemed. Well, wings aside.

"Stiles is alright, he was… sleeping when I got here." Unconscious and unbreathing didn't really count as sleeping, but it was close enough. There wasn't any need to frighten the man. Stiles didn't really seem like he was trying to kill himself. He seemed too happy for that, stroking Derek's stubble, humming something softly to himself as he did so.

Derek stared down at him. He didn't have to be there anymore, but he didn't really feel like leaving the boy. "He's kind of young; do you think having him live alone here is really a good idea?"

"He's around nineteen Derek, and he likes it there. He just gets up on the roof at home. He likes it up high."

"I guess I can see that, the wings and all." Derek stroked the feathers again as he talked. An absent minded gesture, but he couldn't stop. He wanted to be closer to the strange kid who seemed much younger than he was. Stiles kept humming. It was a pretty tune. Stiles loved pretty things.

"What wings?" John asked. The confusion was clear in his voice. He hadn't seen Stiles yet. Stiles had been out when he came to check on him, and hadn't really been waiting with Melissa at the hospital. He had Derek check on Stiles because the station was closer to the clock tower than the hospital was, and had something really been wrong Derek could get Stiles help faster than he could.

"Come on John, don't play around. The wings on his back. Smallish, white, softer than anything you ever felt, this had got to be ringing a bell." Derek furrowed his brows.

"Are you touching him?" John spoke sharply, an accusation behind his voice. Dereks hand jumped away from Stiles wings.

"No! Well yeah, but not like that!" Derek defended a little louder than necessary and Stiles flinched nudging closer to Derek like a puppy seeing if he was still in trouble. Derek shook his head at Stiles trying to assure him that he hadn't done anything.

"Will you put him on the phone?" John asked, but there was really no room for argument. Derek knew that so he handed the phone over to Stiles who held it with both hands as he cupped it to his ears.

"Hi John!" Stiles grinned, curling his legs up so he was practically curled around Derek. "How are you?" Meaning how was he and Melissa at the hospital making kissy faces. John smiled on his end at the happy tone in his voice.

"I'm good. You had me worried you know. If you're not hurt, don't call me to the hospital although…" John trailed off thinking about the date he now had set with Melissa. If Stiles hadn't got him to the hospital he wouldn't have had that sudden urge to ask her out. "Are _you_ alright?" John asked him, "I mean Derek's talking about _wings_."

"I grew them." Stiles repeated for the second time. He sounded very proud to have grown his wings, even though it wasn't really something that normally happened (or ever happened really.) They were just apart of him. They made him feel whole, and they gave him his bow, and with his bow he could shoot his arrows. John could be with Melissa.

"Do they hurt?" John asked. That was really all he cared about. If the wings hurt Stiles, he would worry, but the boy sounded like he loved them, there was no reason to mess with them. He wasn't even going to try and figure out why he'd grown the damn things.

"They make me happy. They're me." Stiles assured. They didn't hurt right now anyways. They only did when he yanked feathers out, and when they first came in. "I like Derek." Stiles said into the phone as he rubbed his leg against Derek's back. Derek smiled softly unable to help it. Stiles was innocently sweet.

"Yeah, about Derek, you can give him his phone back now. I'll come see you in the morning okay?" Stiles agreed eagerly and handed the phone up to Derek. He took it with a thank you bringing it up to his ear.

"Thanks for checking on him for me. You can go now."

"With all due respect sir, I don't think I want to go."

"I said, go Hale." John repeated firmer. Derek really did not want to go. Stiles was curled around him, nudging him gently with his fingers like he was exploring the number of ribs he could feel, and how many defined abdomen muscles he could feel through the uniform. "Don't go." Stiles whispered staring up with wide eyes when he heard the word.

"He doesn't want me to go either." Derek added on hoping that would get him John's blessing to stay. Stiles was the most interesting boy that he'd ever seen and he wasn't quite ready to walk away from him. Stiles would be the only thing on his mind if he did that.

There was a long silence as John sighed. Stiles didn't have any friends. Didn't really get out to meet people, and John couldn't be there to keep the boy company all the time.

"I hear you do anything inappropriate to my boy … I have a gun Derek Hale, and you ride in a car with me." Not that John would actually murder him, but there would be hell to pay if Derek took advantaged. Not that Derek was like that. He would never take advantage.

"You got it." Derek said, and then they ended the call in a mutual hang up.

XXX

Turns out that the boy that John had picked up six months ago and the one in front of him that John had called his son were one and the same. The conversations were easy and Stiles spoke in a way that reminded him of a child, or someone whose mouth hadn't learned English first. For all anyone knew Stiles hadn't. Until six months ago Stiles didn't exist. He was smart though, catching on to English, at least the comprehension and reading parts, easily.

Stiles asked a million and one questions. All of them Derek answered easily. They fell into a comfortable silence in between questions and Stiles absorbing the answer. Derek lost his shoes long ago in their conversation. His jacket went next, and then he was untucking his shirt, loosening a couple buttons.

They moved from sitting on the floor, to lying out on the bed, Stiles legs swung over his own, and they just talked.

Derek told Stiles more about himself than he'd ever told anyone. He told Stiles about the fire, how Kate had went insane, and when Derek tried to break up with her she got back at him by burning his house down. Kate killed his whole family… well quite nearly. His sisters and uncle had escaped the blaze. Peter just barely made it out alive. He was sitting in the hospital to this day an invalid.

When Derek told him that story Stiles had cried. Derek had never had someone cry for him like that before. Not even Laura would hold him and cry. Not even Cora who was barely seven cried with Derek. Though they hadn't seen the inferno swallow there family the way that he had. They hadn't heard their screams or choked on the scent of their burning flesh.

There was a lot of comforting going on after that. For Stiles, though Derek took comfort in giving comfort to the boy.

That's when Derek turned the conversation to the arrows and the work bench. Stiles was all too happy to get up and show Derek everything. There weren't any already made arrows, but Stiles set to work making one. His heart was beating quickly with excitement. He could make an arrow and take Derek out and show him what the arrows did. He could share the joy of bringing someone's love together with Derek… it would be perfect.

For the better part of two hours Derek watched as Stiles rocked and hummed and made an arrow. His fingers moved with practiced skill that told more than six months experience. It made Derek wonder who Stiles was before he was Stiles Stilinski, the Sherriff's adopted son, and resident of the clock tower. Though Derek also realized that who Stiles was before didn't much matter. He was Stiles now, and he was Stiles then, and this is the boy that he knew.

Stiles would look sideways at Derek like he was making sure that he was still there, or if he even cared about the arrows. Derek was watching attentively. The concentration that he gave the arrows was endearing. He took a lot of care with the arrow as he sharpened it, and threaded feathers (that were not his own) to the end. Fletching's Stiles had called them. Derek tucked the new term away for later.

After the second hour was up the boy was jumping up with the arrow in his hands and his wings fluttered happily. He presented the arrow to Derek who turned it over with the appropriate ooh's and aah's. That made Stiles beam brightly as he took it back.

"Go with me." Stiles said excitedly as he bounced over to his boots. Derek sat up straighter and watched Stiles slip his feet into his shoes.

"Where are we going?" Derek asked as he pulled his own work boots on. He was grabbing his coat in the next second as Stiles picked up his bow and Derek held up his hands. "Are you planning to shoot someone with that?" Derek was careful as he inched closer. This didn't sound like such a good idea, but then he remembered how the arrow Stiles had in his neck disappeared and frowned.

"It won't hurt. Promise." Stiles looked up at Derek through his lashes and Derek sighed. "Okay."

Stiles smile couldn't have been wider.

XXX

No one really said anything as they passed. Derek figured someone would have to say _something_. There was a boy with fluttering wings carrying a bow and arrow walking with an off duty police man. Yet no one said a thing to them or pointed and stared at Stiles wings. There was one woman with a stroller who'd tried to get her baby to pay attention to Stiles, but the babies foot seemed to interesting. She smiled, said good evening and kept on.

Odd.

Perhaps they just thought it was a elaborate costume piece. Though that didn't quite cover how they just ignored it. There was something else going on, but Derek didn't want to think to hard about it. If it kept Stiles from being targeted by over curious hands then so be it.

They wandered side by side for a long time until Stiles grabbed Derek by the arm. "Up." He said like Derek had any idea what he meant. He looked up but Stiles tugging told him he didn't mean that way. "Let me up." He said again and before Derek could even stop him Stiles was climbing up his side and on to his shoulders, using his wings to get some lift, even if they wouldn't fly him.

Derek struggled as he tried to get Stiles situated. He weighed nothing, that wasn't the problem it was all the wiggling in the crowd of people down town. Derek was simultaneously trying not to drop stiles, and not run into anyone or hit them.

"Stiles!" Derek exclaimed as Stiles giggled. "I know you like being in high places but honestly?" Stiles didn't answer. He just lifted his bow and lined up the arrow.

"I need up to get them." Stiles answered finally and then he let the arrow fly and Derek held his breath. Dear god, what ever happened he prayed that no one died. He really didn't want to explain that one to John.

Though the arrow flew and then there was a startled cry and Derek was hurrying forward, Stiles still on his shoulders. His mind was racing as his hands tightened over Stiles knees. Someone got hurt, something went wrong, the arrow didn't disappear…

Derek stopped. A man was laughing as the girl helped him up. There was a faint red cloud around them. The only tell tale of the arrow ever being around. He righted himself and then looked into her eyes. Something fell over their faces and then he was taking her into his arms, and they were kissing. Their kiss received more looks than Stiles wings did.

"See, no harm." Stiles rested one hand atop Derek's head, the other held loosely at his side, bow held tightly. Derek let out a breath. Okay, so the arrows didn't kill people… they just pushed them into love, love that was already there, or was budded and just needed the push to bloom. Derek didn't have to ask Stiles if that was true. He could feel it. Those two people's buds bloomed for each other, and now they were going home happily.

"Okay cupid, you hungry?" Derek asked after a moment and Stiles tapped the top of Derek's head twice for yes. Well Derek took it as a yes.

"Curly fries." Stiles cheered and Derek turned around, Stiles still on his shoulders, and headed for the nearest place he knew serving curly fries.

XXX

Derek liked the way that Stiles could take to everything with a smile, and make it seem like the best thing that anyone could be doing. He looked happy talking, eating curly fries. It was an infectious attitude. Derek didn't even particularly care for curly fries before coming to the diner to eat them with Stiles. He felt like he could safely say that he loved them now.

Stiles was pushing about seven curly fries in his mouth at the same time when Derek realized something.

The arrow in Stiles neck didn't erupt in its cloud of red smoke till Derek got there. Did that mean that… they were meant to have something together? To love each other? Derek could certainly could think of worse things that happened to him, and Stiles… he wasn't one of them.

Stiles turned to him mouth wide with curly fries like a chipmunk and Derek smiled easily. And that was saying something because Derek Hale had never been known for smiling _easily_. Though everything felt easy with Stiles.

Stiles swallowed down his curly fries taking a big satisfied gulp of root beer and then beamed at Derek. The hollow feeling had never returned not in the whole time that he'd been with Derek. If anything he'd only felt … fuller. Derek was everything that he could ever want. Derek was sweet and he was strong and he could enjoy a quiet silence, or just let Stiles babble incomprehensibly without getting mad.

"Do you love me?" Stiles asked with wide innocent amber eyes. His arrow had worked hadn't it? If it did Derek should have been open to the love that they were meant to have.

"I just met you." Derek gave him. Derek hadn't said he loved anyone since the fire, but he didn't want to say no… because he didn't want to lie. He just met Stiles, but there were dozens of things that he loved about him already. It was only a matter of time before Derek _loved_ Stiles.

"Well, I love you." Stiles announced like it was the most profound thing in the world. Perhaps it was for Stiles. He'd been willing to stab himself with one of his arrows because he desperately wanted what others had, because he thought there were no other alternatives. To have someone like Derek must seem like a dream come true, and mostly it was. Just a lot more real, and a lot more complicated, but at least Derek was willing to try.

"Eat your curly fries." Derek chuckled stealing one off of Stiles plate.


End file.
